Digger Doyle's Real Book of Monsters

by Daniel Warriner

  Slithis didn’t appear to be in as much discomfort as before, and continued to pace around the tree trunk, making squishy noises with its feet and pausing every once in a while to pull the chain and release water into the dip of its head. The chain made clanking sounds, like coins do when shaken in a pouch, and the water dribbled out with a glub-glub-glub. All these sounds were keeping Digger awake, and he was starting to give up on sleep. Getting any shut-eye would be hard enough to do after all the commotion surrounding the Grudgings’ escape.

  He stretched his mouth and lips so he could speak clearly to the creature. Then, in Kappanese, and as politely as he knew how, said, “Excuse me, but would you mind being quiet . . . For a little . . . So I can get some sleep?”

  Upon hearing those words, the Kappa cheered up at once. Slithis had taken Digger’s request as an invitation to chat.

  “Sleep? No, no. No need for sleep. I have done lots of thinking, special one, and healing as well.”

  The Kappa then peeled Digger’s bloodied shirt off its wound to have a look. In the tiny amount of light from the fireflies, Digger could see the blood had dried, and the bleeding had stopped.

  He wondered if the Kappa—during all of its thinking—had come up with a way to get out of the trees. The Bees, he knew, were not the type to report their capture to any people in the village. And yet a rescue, Digger was certain, was their only chance of freedom.

  All day he’d been hoping his uncle and the professor had reported them missing and a search party was out looking for them. But what were the odds of anyone walking directly below the jail huts? The Aomori woods was so vast. And if someone did come, wouldn’t the Tengus go after them too? Those jail huts could become very crowded.

  “We have to get out of here,” Digger thought out loud.

  “No. We’re exactly where we should be,” the Kappa said with absolute certainty, which came as a surprise to Digger.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because we cannot climb this high.”

  “I’m sorry, Slithis, but I don’t understand.”

  “The Tengus brought us here, you see? And they have something you need—I’m sure of that. You should consider yourself lucky, special one—you don’t have to climb this high to get it.” Slithis’s voice was sizzling with excitement, so Digger sat up straight, eager to hear more of what the creature had to say.

  “Let me tell you a story, special one . . . A long, long time ago, when volcanoes swelled up out of the sea, and Japan was formed, the Sun Goddess, Amaterasu, came to these lands to watch over them. She saw to it that plants and animals were scattered over these thousands of islands. She protected them, as best she could, from the emotional gods—those lords of typhoons and tsunamis, and of earthquakes and volcanoes. When people came from across the sea, they discovered Japan’s vast beauty and its rich bounty of food.” Slithis again peered out at the blackness. “But for Amaterasu, watching over these islands was a most demanding job—even for a god. The earthquakes rattled the mountains. The coasts were swept by enormous waves. Volcanoes spewed rocks and fiery streams of lava. Typhoons thrashed the land from every direction . . . And Amaterasu grew weary. If she were to continue protecting Japan, she would need more power.”

  “So what did she do? Did she get more power?”

  “Amaterasu asked the people and the animals and the unseen creatures for help. She asked them to travel to all the islands and gather the rarest of metals and minerals. And she asked them to use those materials to make a jewel, a mirror, and a sword—her three treasures.”

  “A sword,” Digger said under his breath.

  “Yes, special one—a sword. The jewel represents kindness. It came from the animal kingdom—from the creatures Amaterasu protected first. The mirror is wisdom, created by the earliest people of Japan. Amaterasu would use it to remind herself to search beyond her beauty and her sparkling eyes for knowledge and judgment. Finally, the mythological beings—the monsters—created the sword. They melted black sand, and forged the metal into a solid blade of several layers, symbolizing their nature of remaining unseen, as well as their power. The sword is strength.”

  Digger watched as Slithis positioned his arms as if holding the sword, then sliced at the dark. “With those three treasures, Amaterasu had the kindness, the wisdom, and the strength to protect these islands. She appeared in all parts of Japan—including Osorezan, the mountain where she listens to the spirits of the dead.”

  The Kappa again fixed its eyes on some distant spot in the darkness, or on the darkness itself.

  Digger wondered if his father and the professor had heard such a tale. And where are the jewel and mirror now? How did Amaterasu lose them?

  “The mirror—you’re sure the Kappas didn’t take it from the goddess?”

  “Do not doubt me, special one.” Slithis turned to Digger. “The mirror was brought to us, by the man I spoke of in the cage, the one who came with the beast dog—and a warning. He told us to hold onto the mirror, to safeguard it at all costs, and said Amaterasu was dreadfully angry. He told us the goddess would destroy these lands if she was given back the power to do so. But without the mirror, and the other two treasures, she would be too weak to harm us.”

  “So that’s why you put it in your cavern?”

  “Yes, with the hope that our ancestors—the Kappa spirits—would help to keep it tucked away out of sight.”

  “And the jewel was given to a fisherman—Inari-san.”

  The Kappa shook its head. “No, not a man. A sprite. Nooo friend of the Kappas—Inari takes our fish.”

  “And the sword . . . You really believe the one here, with the Tengus, belongs to Amaterasu?”

  At that the Kappa gave a broad smile. “Ah, you’ve seen it, then, have you? Its ancient scent—I couldn’t be sure that I’d caught it in the breeze.”

  Digger wanted to trust the Kappa but didn’t know if he should. After all, his father’s book had cautioned about the mischievousness of these creatures.

  “Special one . . .” Slithis took a step closer to Digger. “Not all Kappas are the same. There are good ones. There are bad ones. So we do not always see eye to eye. The man, with the Barghest—when he brought us the treasure, many Kappas rejected his words. Half our clan could not imagine Amaterasu ever wanting to destroy these lands, after safeguarding them for eons.”

  “But some of the Kappas believed him. Why?”

  “The day he brought the mirror was the day our forest began to die. We saw the wilting trees, the birds flying away, the crumpled flowers, the clouds of poisons in the river . . . Evidence—some Kappas believed—that Amaterasu had set in motion the end of this world. They were convinced she had abandoned us.”

  “And you, Slithis . . . What do you believe?”

  “What I see, special one. I believe what I see. And I see the forest dying. The river. My homeland. This death—it’s the creeping sort. It dribbles down from Osorezan’s peak and spreads quickly, beginning with that day the mirror was given to us.”

  “So Amaterasu is destroying the forest?”

  “No, special one, quite the opposite. She must have those treasures. Otherwise, she cannot take care of what she has always cared for.”

  “Slithis, are you saying that Amaterasu needs the treasures to fix the forest?”

  “Yes, that is what I believe.”

  “If that’s true, then the man who brought you the mirror must have taken it from her, along with the jewel and the sword. But why would he?”

  “I do not know. Though, he did have one other message for my clan.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said that you, Digger, could return the treasures to the Sun Goddess.”

  Digger was stunned. “Me?”

  “Yes—and only you. He told us the dying would cease if you took them back to her.”

  For a moment Digger thought he might have misunderstood. “He actually said my name?”

  “He did—Digger. Loud and clear, ov
er the wicked growls of his beast.”

  “Why me?”

  “He did not say. But in his voice was a peculiar accent, and he used the same old-fashioned words you say to me. And he read about Kappas, to scare the clan into believing he knows everything about us. He read from a piece a paper—a blank page—like the one in your bag.”

  Digger’s heart leapt as he grabbed his rucksack. He was just starting to trust this slippery creature. “You went through my bag?”

  “To see if you had the jewel.”

  “I don’t. And next time ask, please.” Digger put down his rucksack. “Okay . . . So I speak the same way that man does. And I have a blank-but-not-blank page, like him. But he’s a liar, right? You think he lied about the Sun Goddess. What if he lied about me, too? If he did, then maybe I’m not the one who should take those treasures to Amaterasu.”

  “As I said before, I believe what I see. But, sometimes, we must believe what we cannot see. This is faith, special one. And I have faith in Amaterasu, as I have faith in you.”

  Digger stood and stuck his head out the half-moon window. Was he facing the right direction? And if Mount Osore was out that way, then how far?

  “Even if I am supposed to take the treasures back to her, I have no idea where they are. I’m trapped in a tree. And the Tengus think I’m some sort of criminal.”

  “Yes, special one, those are all big problems.” The Kappa’s forked tongue lashed out and caught a firefly. Digger heard the bug crunch between Slithis’s teeth. When the creature next spoke, its mouth let out a dull glow. “Big problems indeed.”

  Chapter 27—Grand Assembly

  The bottom tip of King Sōjōbō’s cane double-prodded the terrace floor with a THWACK! THWACK! The King gazed over his village while another Tengu—short and clad in a purple kimono—stepped up to the brink of a pulpit, which had been carved into the form of three apes and stood lodged between the branches of a twisted tree.

  This grim-faced Tengu was the King’s herald, and through his wispy moustache, with a squawky voice, he cried out, “Attention! Attention! It is time for the trial to commence.”

  All around, Tengus on the bridges and walkways slowed their jostling for the best spots to view the King, the cage, the stage, and the mustached herald.

  “We have assembled here today to determine the fate of those three skin-folks—and that there river vermin—all accused, under the rule of His Royal Majesty, King Sōjōbō, of conspiring to destroy these great lands of ours, of assisting in the wicked work of Amaterasu, by attempting to harm all we deem precious, and by scheming to steal the Three Sacred Treasures, our only defense against the god-turned-destroyer of the mountain. May the tree spirits be by our side.”

  The herald paused to regard King Sōjōbō and the one hundred or more other Tengus who had come to watch. He merely glanced at Digger, Pam, Yukiko and Slithis, all in the same cage, dangling near the disc-shaped stage. Snatched from their jail huts at dawn, they were whisked off to the center of the village, where they now gazed out between those bars of bamboo. On top of the cage, Kenja and Kenza stood at attention, awaiting their orders.

  With another cane-poke at the floor, King Sōjōbō signaled that the proceedings would begin. He continued cooling his hard face with his elaborate fan, shaped like a peacock’s spread tail, while the herald shuffled some papers behind his pulpit, before giving the King a nod.

  King Sōjōbō’s deep-set eyes beat down on his prisoners. With an array of Ahems, he cleared each depth of his phlegm-crusted throat. “Ahem! AHEM! Ahe-hem! What say you in your defense?”

  There was a hush, and then, having not received any response whatsoever, the King expressed his disapproval by raising his voice to a hoarse shout. “What say you—in your defense?”

  Again there was silence, which at last was broken when Kenja struck the cage with a long stiff stick.

  “Dig,” whispered Pam. “I think they want us to say something. They’re all staring at us.”

  But Digger remained silent. He still didn’t know exactly what crimes the Tengus were accusing them of.

  “I have something,” Yukiko said softly. Digger looked over at her, uncertain what she meant, or what she was hiding. “It might be the thing they want,” she explained. “This, here . . .” She reached down into her pant pocket and lifted the jewel, just high enough so that only Digger could see it.

  Slithis spoke next: “You must talk to the winged giants, special one. None of us but you can.”

  Digger kept his mouth shut. How could he say anything without knowing what he’d done wrong? Besides, the King didn’t like it when he spoke Tenguish. For this reason, he was afraid that talking now would land him and his friends in even more trouble.

  “Very well,” said the King, “if you have nothing to say in your defense, then we shall take that as an admission of your guilt. Which leaves us with the part where we decide your punishment.”

  Silence.

  “For the crimes committed and charged against you,” the King bellowed out in his raspy old voice, “I hereby sentence you to death . . . By tree.”

  Gasps from the onlookers rattled the leaves.

  The mustached herald thundered: “Upon this sentencing you will be placed, separately, on top of the highest trees of these woods—without food or water, without the means to climb down. There you will spend your last days, on your branches of death, withering away, unless of course you choose to fall to your ends, on the floor of this forest—the forest you have disrespected . . . The forest you will nourish after you have . . . ended.”

  “Wait,” Digger pleaded in a whisper—too quiet for Yukiko, Pam or Slithis to realize that he’d spoken Tenguish. He looked up at the King. “Wait!” he said louder, and Pam and Yukiko, with fresh astonishment, both gawked at him.

  “Hmm? The boy wishes to speak after his sentencing?” King Sōjōbō eyed Kenja and Kenza, and the guards each gave the King a shallow nod. The King then shook his head. “That is not how we deal with matters in Tomarigi Village.” He lifted his cane, about to conclude the trial with another strike of the floor.

  “But wait,” Digger screamed up at the King again. The cane stopped before it dropped. “How can you punish us when not all of us can defend ourselves in your language?”

  There was a restlessness among the Tengus, with a great deal of chattering.

  “I can speak your Tengu words, but they cannot. So how can you punish them when they have no idea why they’re being punished—especially when they haven’t done anything bad?”

  Digger’s Tenguish came out clearly and intelligibly. He had everyone’s attention, and Yukiko and Pam were still quite in awe—this wasn’t the boy they’d known a couple of days before. It had become apparent to Yukiko that Digger wasn’t speaking gibberish at all; this she could tell from the faces of the Tengus—they understood every word he’d said.

  “Get the sword, special one,” urged Slithis in a slippery throaty voice. “Tell them your name.”

  “One thing at a time,” Digger said to the Kappa, and Pam and Yukiko’s jaws dropped a tad lower.

  The King was displeased. “You have come to our forest and so it is our language you must spea—”

  “—and what about this Kappa’s language?” Digger had cut off the Tengu, and judging from the gasps all around, interrupting the King was forbidden. “This forest belongs to the Kappas, too. And please excuse me, King, but aren’t you supposed to be honorable and wise? Where’s the honor in punishing them when they don’t know their crimes? Where’s the wisdom in that?”

  Digger was starting to feel oddly comfortable making the Tengu words with his lips, cheeks, tongue, and throat. And with each sentence, the words came out more easily and Digger sounded more confident. At the same time, he was terrified of being punished to death!

  “I’ll tell you precisely what you have done,” boomed the King. “You have broken our laws. You have come to steal the—”

  “—We came here to find my fathe
r,” Digger cut him off again, and another tremor of shock rippled the bamboo bridges. “We did not come here to steal. The Grudgings are the ones stealing from your forest. We are not the same as them.”

  The King scratched the back of his neck, his bent nose rising and then drooping as he yawned.

  “Please believe—if you believe anything I say—one thing,” Digger pleaded.

  “Oh, and what is that?”

  “YOU are the ones who are destroying this forest.”

  The Tengus were astounded, and some made clucking sounds that Digger understood to be boos. Others threw pinecones at the cage.

  “SILENCE!” rumbled the King. He fanned his face furiously.

  “But I believe it’s true,” said Digger. “The three treasures were stolen from Amaterasu. And without them she is powerless to protect the forest.”

  “Boy, the Tengus did not take those items from the Sun Goddess.” The King was extremely angry. His worn-out skin was as crimson as his inflamed rose.

  “No, you did not take them. You were given the sword by a man with some kind of dog. He lied to you. And as long as you keep the sword from the goddess, your village—your whole kingdom—will suffer. Eventually there will be nothing here but dying trees in dead earth.”

  Slithis again urged, “Get the sword. Tell them who you are.”

  “What’s going to happen to us?” Yukiko asked. “Digger, how do you know how to speak their languages?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t know.” He gave a feeble shrug. “I just can.”

  “Get the sword, special one.” Slithis tugged at Digger’s rucksack. “Give them your name.”